


Out of the Cupboard

by Catalina21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catalina21/pseuds/Catalina21
Summary: The Dursleys are cruel and evil people. What kind of person would abuse a child physically and mentally? Harry has begun to think he won't make it to the next term of Hogwarts alive, and he isn't sure if he wants to. But what will he do when help comes in the most unlikely of all places?This work has been put on hiatus for the time being, as I am working on one of my other fanfics; Twisted. I don't know when I will update again.





	1. Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> **There is child abuse and neglect in this story**
> 
> This is still one of my first stories on Ao3, and I would love to hear your feedback! You're welcome to leave advice and criticism in the comments. I'm going to try and update every week, but I apologize in advance if I miss a week. I hope you like it!

Harry

Sundays were always Harry’s favorite. Uncle Vernon was always in a better mood, and when Uncle Vernon was happy, the whole house seemed to brighten. Aunt Petunia hummed as she dusted the photographs, and Dudley ate everything on his plate, even the green beans. And Harry? He was able to hide in his bedroom for hours at a time, without disturbance. He played with his chipped figurine army, reenacting famous battles on the tiny shelf above his bed. Many boys his age would look down upon playing with toys, saying they had grown out of it, as it was child’s play. But Harry loved it. It was an escape, for him. A pathway away from the cruelty of reality, away from his uncle’s fists, his aunt’s perfectly manicured nails, and his cousin’s biting insults. So when Uncle Vernon arrived home from church with a frown on his face, Harry immediately knew that today was not going to be a normal Sunday.

“Boy! Fetch me my coffee!” Harry bowed his head and obediently traipsed toward the kitchen. He poured Uncle Vernon’s coffee, one cream, no sugar, then fixed Aunt Petunia a cup of chamomile tea. He grabbed a tray of biscuits for Dudley, and, balancing the three items in his hands with practiced skill, walked back to the T.V. room.

“Took you long enough!” Uncle Vernon said in his gruff voice. Harry kept his head down as he handed Uncle Vernon his coffee, and Aunt Petunia her tea. He set the biscuits on a nearby T.V. tray. Dudley reached for them immediately, smacking Harry in a not so accidental way as his grubby hand closed around two biscuits at the same time. Harry crept quietly from the room, rubbing his head where Dudley smacked him. He fixed himself a piece of toast, making sure not to spill any crumbs on the tile, as he knew he would be the one cleaning them up. Harry crammed the last of the toast in his mouth, then washed his hands and went to his bedroom. He curled up on the bed, hoping to maybe get a few more minutes of sleep. His nightmares last night had been atrocious, and he probably got only four or five hours of sleep, if that. Harry set his glasses on the small wooden nightstand next to his bed, and closed his eyes. 

“Boy! Get down here!” Harry rubbed his eyes and checked the clock. He had been asleep an hour. Oh no. How long had his uncle been calling? He scrambled out of his bed and put on his glasses. “I swear to God, if I have to come up there…!” Harry rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon?” he said. Uncle Vernon’s face turned purple at Harry’s apparent nonchalance. 

“How many times do I have to call you? Ungrateful brat. Petunia wants you to dust the living room and weed the garden.” Harry nodded quickly.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.” he said. His uncle left the kitchen, fuming, and muttering something about freaks not being able to do anything for themselves. Harry tried not to let that hurt him, and instead threw himself into his chores. An hour later, the living room was dusted, and the garden was free from weeds. Harry wiped sweat off his brow and stepped back inside the house. The air-conditioning hit him full blast. It felt nice, especially compared to the humid yard. He took off his shoes and carried them, careful not to track dirt onto the shiny floors, to his bedroom. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were sitting in the backyard, sipping lemonade and chatting. Dudley was nowhere to be seen, so that probably meant he was in front of the telly. Harry sat at his small wooden desk and stroked Hedwig. He couldn’t wait until he was old enough to get an apartment of his own, where there would be no Aunt Petunia to boss him around, and no Uncle Vernon to beat him up. There was a soft tap at the window. Harry looked up to see Errol, and a smile overtook his features. He opened the window as quietly and gingerly as he could, and Errol stepped in. Harry grabbed the letter and tore it open eagerly. 

_ Hi Harry, _

_ I hope your relatives are treating you well. We don’t have the car anymore, but I’m sure I could convince Mum or Dad to pick you up if necessary. You’ll keep me posted, yeah? I can’t wait to see you again when school starts. Fred and George have been locked up in their room all summer. Who knows what they’re working on in there. Mum keeps trying to sneak up on them, catch them red handed, but they’re too quick. I wish they would tell me what they’re doing, though. I’m their brother, for Merlin’s sake. Ginny hasn’t shut up about you, after the whole debacle from last year. It’s quite annoying, really. Other than that, our summer has been quite pleasant. _

_ Hermione seems to be excited about the coming school year. In her letters she hasn’t shut up about what new classes she wants to pick. Personally, I don’t need any new classes. I’d be happy to drop a few, even. But I suppose if we have to pick, we should choose the same ones as Hermione, so we can copy off her homework. (If she lets us, she’s gotten so uptight recently!) Anyway, I miss you, and I hope your summer is as splendid as can be! _

_ Your best mate, _

_ Ron _

Harry smiled to himself. Of _course_ Hermione was already worried about classes, when they still had a month and a half of summer left. He started to pull out pen and paper, when a door slammed downstairs. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were back inside. Both Errol and Hedwig screeched, having been startled by the loud noise. Harry tried to quiet them, but it was too late. The damage was done.

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO KEEP THAT RUDDY BIRD QUIET!” Uncle Vernon roared. Harry winced, opening the window, and half shooing, half shoving Errol out. His uncle appeared in the doorway, and Harry pushed himself against the wall, trying to seem as small as possible. Uncle Vernon looked furious, his almost nonexistent neck purple. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, when the door slammed she got scared!” That was the wrong thing to say. If it was possible, Uncle Vernon turned an even darker color.

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s  _ my _ fault, boy?” Harry shook his head rapidly, sinking onto the ground. 

“N-no, no, it just startled her, it was an accident, it wasn’t your fault, I swear it wasn’t. Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor-” Harry’s apology was cut off by Uncle Vernon’s foot. He kicked Harry in the stomach, then moved up to his face. Pain exploded everywhere, and Harry curled in on himself, tighter and tighter. But the punches continued to hit true. Harry’s vision started to go fuzzy, and before he knew it, he blacked out.

Everything hurt. Harry slowly opened his eyes. His glasses were broken, one of the lenses missing, the other one cracked down the middle. He tried to stand up, stars swimming before his eyes. It was a while before he could see clearly again. Harry stumbled down the hall into the bathroom. He glanced into the mirror, an unrecognizable face staring back at him. His left eye was swollen and purple. Dried blood fell in streaks down his cheeks. Harry turned away. He couldn’t stand to look at his beaten, bruised body any longer. The door to the bathroom banged open. Harry looked up to see Aunt Petunia, a look of disgust on her face. 

“You’re up. Good. We need you to make dinner. Vernon and I are having guests, so it better be good.” She turned to go, looking back one last time. “And wash up. Really, the way you look, it’s revolting.” And with that she turned and went back downstairs. Harry sighed and took a washcloth from the cabinet. He wet it with warm water and dabbed gently at his wounds. “NOW!” Aunt Petunia’s sharp voice rang up the stairs. Harry sighed again, and turned to head to the kitchen. 

The sound of laughter filled the house. The dinner guests seemed to be truly delightful people, from the snippets of conversation that carried through the walls to Harry’s bedroom. Harry’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since the single piece of toast this morning, and doubted he would be getting dinner, especially after the whole owl debacle. Harry sighed, and grabbed the pen and paper from his desk. He still hadn’t replied to Ron’s letter. He tried to keep his response as upbeat as possible, refusing to mention just how terrible things were at his aunt and uncle’s.

_ Dear Ron, _

_ I miss you, too. Things here have been alright, but of course I’d rather be with you and your family. Tell your mum I miss her, I’m sure she’ll like that. I wonder what Fred and George are up to. They’re always up to something, though, right? Hopefully nothing too dangerous, or your mum will go ballistic.  _

_ Of course Hermione’s already worried about the coming school year. I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to take all the classes offered. But I’m with you. I don’t need to add anymore classes. The ones we had last year were plenty.  _

_ Is there any chance I could stay with you for a portion of the remaining break? I miss you like hell, and your mum’s cooking, as well. Maybe we can meet Hermione, too.  _

_ Miss you like crazy, _

_ Harry _

 

Harry tied the piece of parchment to Hedwig’s leg, then opened the window and sent her off to the Burrow. Thankfully this was a quiet procedure, and Hedwig didn’t make a sound. Harry layed back down on his bed, and listened to the sounds of conversation downstairs. He didn’t realize when he drifted off to sleep, until he awoke to a quiet household a few hours later. His stomach rumbled again, and so Harry made his way downstairs to the kitchen, making sure to skip the last step, as it was creaky. The dishes from dinner were stacked next to the sink, and Harry knew he would have to take care of those tomorrow. He reached the cupboard, and pulled out a loaf of bread, taking two slices and spreading jam over each. He made care not to take so much that the Dursleys would notice, but enough to satisfy his hunger, at least for the night. He grabbed an apple from the full bowl of fruit on the counter, and hurried back upstairs. After eating, Harry tried to fall asleep again, and found it very difficult to get comfortable. The bruises on his ribs and back hurt when he put pressure on them, and his face was constantly aching. After an hour of shifting around, Harry finally found a more comfortable position, and fell into a fitful sleep, waking just before dawn.


	2. Take Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwanted professor makes a visit to the Dursleys, and Petunia shows a surprising act of affection.

Harry

A few weeks passed since what Harry dubbed “the owl incident”, and he was mostly healed. But Uncle Vernon had locked Hedwig up again, just like last year, and Harry hadn’t received anymore letters, from Ron or Hermione. He figured his aunt and uncle had something to do with that. But Harry knew his friends hadn’t forgotten him, and that gave him the hope that he needed, to make it through the bad days. 

Until one morning, when the doorbell rang. The night previous, Harry had received a particularly harsh beating. Uncle Vernon was drunk, and hit him with the broken glass bottle. The doorbell rang again.

“Boy! Are you going to answer that, or do I have to do everything myself?!” Uncle Vernon shouted. Harry hurried to open the door. He gasped when he saw who it was.

“Professor!” he exclaimed, then, quieting his voice continued. “Professor, sir, what are you doing here?” Professor Snape looked coldly down upon his least favorite student, but his gaze softened slightly when he saw the condition Harry was in.

“Dumbledore summoned me to check on you, Mr. Potter. Apparently he received a rather alarming letter from your two friends, saying how all of a sudden you had “gone silent”. They said you had not been replying to their many letters, and after the events of last year, they were quite concerned. What happened last year, Mr. Potter?” Harry shook his head rapidly. 

“N-nothing happened, sir, I just stayed at Ron’s house for a little bit of the summer. And Hedwig, she’s just-” Harry was saved from having to find an excuse as to why he hadn’t been replying to letters by Uncle Vernon’s harsh voice.

“Who is it, boy?” he yelled. Harry winced.

“Nobody, Uncle Vernon! Just, um, a solicitor!” Harry tried his very best not to look at Snape, but he couldn’t help himself. The professor had a look of confusion and disgust on his face.

“Well, tell them to go away! We don’t want what they’re selling.” Harry nodded, then, remembering Uncle Vernon couldn’t see his face, opened his mouth to reply.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon, sir.” Harry turned back to his professor.

“I’m sorry, sir, I have to go. Thank you for stopping by, but I’m fine. I’ll try to write to Ron and Hermione soon. Have a good summer, sir.” And with that, Harry shut the door on the professor who hated him the most, knowing he would pay for it later that year, at school. But his uncle’s punishment, if he let Snape in, would be much worse, and much more imminent. The question was, why did Dumbledore send Snape? Harry’s strong feeling of hate towards Snape was mutual, and it would have been much more logical to send someone like McGonagall, or even Dumbledore himself. Harry sighed, and turned to finish the load of laundry he had started just before Snape rang. 

The rest of the day passed in routine. Harry finished his chores, quickly, and was sent up to his room until it was time to cook dinner. Dinner really wasn’t that bad. He was even allowed to eat the leftovers; half a bowl of mashed potatoes and an apple. It felt like a feast. Harry slept well that night. He dreamed of Ron, and Hermione, and magic and Hogwarts. He awoke at dawn, well rested, and happy to not have overslept. He quietly crept downstairs, jumping the last step, and began making breakfast. Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen some time later, yawning and still in her nightgown and curlers. She barely even glanced at Harry as she reached into the cupboard to get a glass for water. She turned on the faucet, filling the glass with cool, clear water. Harry kept his gaze focused on the frying pan, where he was scrambling some eggs. 

“What are you making?” Aunt Petunia asked, her voice softer and shyer than Harry had ever heard it. He still didn’t glance up.

“Er, scrambled eggs, Aunt Petunia.” Harry could feel his aunt’s gaze on the back of his head. “Did you, um, want me to make something else?” Aunt Petunia stepped closer to Harry, and put her hand on his shoulder. The boy stiffened.

“Harry. Harry, look at me.” Harry obeyed immediately. Aunt Petunia’s voice was too soft, and it scared him. Her light brown eyes were sad, and shy, almost nervous. She looked so different from the Petunia Harry had grown to know and hate. “You have your mother’s eyes, Harry. You-  _ they _ are so beautiful. They are so beautiful.” And then Aunt Petunia pulled her nephew into a hug. The fresh wounds on Harry’s back stung from the contact, and he did his best not to wince. Harry didn’t think he had ever seen this type of affection from his typically cold aunt. Aunt Petunia reached into the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a bottle of pills. The antidepressants her doctor had prescribed last year. Aunt Petunia never took the pills, insisting she was fine, and perfectly happy. But today she slid open the bottle and dumped two into her hand. Harry turned back to his eggs, hearing Aunt Petunia sip the last of her water and swallow the pills. Then she went back to bed. 

The rest of the day wasn’t so bad. Aunt Petunia was quite reserved the whole time, but didn’t bring up the events of the morning at all. Harry followed suit, for he certainly wasn’t going to bring up that awkward hug if his aunt wasn’t. He would be sure to get a lashing from Uncle Vernon, or a sharp slap across the cheek from Aunt Petunia. Instead, Harry focused all his attention on his chores, finishing them considerably earlier than the previous days, despite his back protesting fiercely. He was up in his room when the doorbell rang. He rushed downstairs to open it, but paused when he saw Aunt Petunia standing in the open doorway, gaping. 

“You!” she spluttered. “What are  _ you _ doing here? We don’t have time for freaks like you!” So it was probably a wizard, then, judging from Aunt Petunia’s wording and tone. Harry crept halfway down the stairs as quietly as he could. He stiffened when he heard the cold, drawling voice coming from the man outside. Snape was back.

“Ah, Tuney, that’s no way to treat an old friend! It’s been such a long time, dear.” Snape’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Shut up,  _ Sev _ . What do you want? There’s got to be a reason you’re here.” Snape smiled, a horrible, gruesome thing. 

“Yes, actually, there is. I’m looking for your nephew, Mr. Potter?” Aunt Petunia and Harry stiffened at the same time.

“I don’t have a nephew. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aunt Petunia crossed her arms.

“Tuney, you know that’s not going to work on me. I teach Potter at the same school Lily went to, all those years ago.” Harry had to contain a gasp. Snape had known his mother? Aunt Petunia glanced around nervously. She seemed uncertain of how to handle the situation. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind.

“Boy!” she called. “Get down here!” Harry obeyed immediately, shyly stepping out of the shadows. He avoided looking at Snape.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia?” he asked.

“Do you know this lunatic?” she gestured to Snape. Harry nodded, his eyes still dutifully trained on the floor. 

“Yes, Aunt Petunia. He teaches at Hog- at my school.” Aunt Petunia sighed. 

“Fine. You have five minutes to talk. That should be sufficient enough time to dole out whatever punishment you likely deserve, right, boy?” Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia stepped into the telly room, leaving Harry alone with his professor.

“Um, hi, Professor.” Harry started. Snape was likely to give him a box on the ear for slamming the door in his face so rudely yesterday. “Can I help you?” he asked, finally looking up at Snape. The professor had the same look of confusion he wore yesterday. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with the cold, hard look that was familiar to Harry.

“Grab your things.” Harry startled.

“Sorry, sir?” he asked.

“I said grab your things, Potter, you’re coming with me.” Harry wasn't sure what to do. If he went with Snape, he was sure to get a lashing from Uncle Vernon. But if he stayed, he was sure to get a lashing from Snape!

“I’m sorry, sir, but may I ask why?” Snape sighed.

“We’re going to find you a more suitable home. It’s clear you’re not happy here. Now please, before I lose my temper, go pack your things!” Harry had seen the wrong side of Snape’s temper before, and he wasn’t eager to do so again. Even if it meant facing Uncle Vernon’s anger, later.

“Yessir.” Harry turned and practically ran up the stairs. He packed his trunk with the few belongings he had, then quickly returned downstairs. Snape stood, waiting, in the same spot Harry left him. Snape turned to go, but paused when he realized Harry wasn’t following.

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Potter?” he asked. Harry glanced at his cupboard.

“Um, it’s just, well,” Snape glared.

“Spit it out, Potter!” Harry turned red.

“My school stuff. It’s locked in the cupboard.” he said. Snape’s glare returned. “Sir!” Harry added hastily. Snape nodded, and turned to the cupboard that had once been Harry’s home.

“Alohomora!” he murmured. The lock clicked open, and Harry rushed to grab his wand, robes, and books, along with an assortment of spare quills and scraps of parchment, placing them neatly inside his trunk. Snape nodded and turned towards the telly room. Aunt Petunia glanced up. 

“We’re leaving now, Tuney.” he said. 

“Finally!” Aunt Petunia exclaimed. Then she seemed to realize what Snape had said. “Wait, what do you mean, we?!” she shouted. But Snape had already grabbed Harry’s arm and Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if I don't post consistently, especially this coming week, as I am going out of town for a a little while. I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave feedback in the comments, I can always improve and become a better writer.


	3. New Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since my last update, I've been super busy. This chapter is pretty short, so sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy! You're welcome to leave feedback in the comments.

Severus

Severus really should have warned the boy. They appeared in the living room of Severus’s house, and Potter immediately doubled over. He looked quite green, and so Severus directed him towards the bathroom, to which he ran toward instantly. Severus sat in an armchair by the fireplace as he listened to Potter retch. Soon enough, the boy reentered the living room, his head bent.

“Sorry, sir.” he said. Severus glanced at Potter.

“Potter, whatever do you have to be sorry about?” Potter looked up, slightly.

“I got sick! I threw up, sir!” Severus sighed. It would take a while before the boy adjusted to life without the Dursleys’ harsh punishments.

“Well, assuming you didn’t miss the toilet bowl, there is nothing to be upset about. Everyone gets a little woozy after their first Apparition, especially long distances. Now. Let’s discuss your situation. I am your temporary guardian, at least until we can find someone else who can take you permanently. But as of the moment, I am to be taking care of you, so you will do as I say, understand?” Potter nodded. Severus frowned.

“I mean, yes, sir, I understand.” Severus nodded his approval and headed to the kitchen to start dinner. The boy followed.

“May I help, Professor?” he asked. Severus nodded.

“Chop up those carrots, if you will.” he said, gesturing to a bag of already peeled carrots. He handed Potter a knife, and the boy got to work. He seemed very comfortable in the kitchen, Severus couldn’t help noticing, as he prepared the parmesan chicken and stuck it in the oven. Potter seemed to sense that they were making a salad, and dug in the fridge for some lettuce and dressing. Severus handed him a salad bowl, guessing that that was what he would go searching for next. He seemed to have guessed right, as Potter started mixing the greens. Within a half hour, dinner was made, and Severus grabbed a plate for himself and the boy. Potter seemed to retreat into the corner of the kitchen as Severus served himself some salad.

“Potter, what on earth are you doing? Come, now, dinner is ready.” Potter nodded and rose slowly. He grabbed the plate Severus held out, and cut himself a tiny piece of chicken, putting it onto his plate. He served himself even less salad. Severus eyed the portion, then made his own plate. They would have to work on building the boy’s appetite back up. Severus grabbed forks for the both of them, then took a seat at the counter that served as a table in his small home. He glanced up when he noticed Potter had not followed him in taking his seat. 

“Well, come along, then. I don’t expect you to eat standing up.” 

“Yessir, Professor.” The boy hurriedly took a seat beside Severus, and, after seeing Severus take the first bite, he dug into his own meal. Potter’s plate was empty in no time. Severus gestured to the kitchen counter, where the leftovers sat.

“You’re welcome to take seconds, Mr. Potter.” The boy nodded, but made no move towards the food. He was watching Severus warily, perched on the edge of his stool. Severus sighed. It would take a while to break all the habits Potter learned at the Dursleys. 

When Severus was done eating, he grabbed his plate and Potter’s, and set them in the sink to be washed the next day. 

“Follow me, Mr. Potter, and grab your trunk. I’ll show you to your room.”

“Yessir.” the boy replied quickly. He grabbed his trunk and hurried after Severus. Severus climbed the stairs and opened the door almost directly across from the landing. Potter hesitantly entered the room and glanced around. 

“This is all mine?” he asked softly. 

“I realize it’s not much, but you’ll have to deal with it until we can find you a more suitable guardian.” Severus said, misinterpreting the boy’s words. Potter set his trunk in the corner of the room, next to the small desk. 

“No, it’s wonderful, sir. Thank you.” Severus nodded. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled. The bathroom is right next door.” Potter nodded, and sat down on the bed. Severus gave a sharp nod and headed toward his own bedroom down the hall. He had no experience taking care of children. At Hogwarts, he rarely ever had one on one time with any of his students, and never in the form of a guardian. In fact, the only other person he’d had in his house was Dumbledore. And Lily, he supposed, but thinking about her was too painful. Severus was exhausted, he had barely transfigured his robes into pajamas when he sank into the bed. Within minutes, he was asleep.


End file.
